Poetry for me is a way of living, it comes out of nowhere and I have to write it down. How I write, what I write, I decide. I am not asking you to be judgemental. I am gifted with the ability to see beyond the obvious.

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

the saga continues

in that grecian urn,Sr Silley burnsI put gasolinealong with limey beansI think of tiny nibblesover his poetic quibblesyummy, I smack my lips(while he bumps his burning hips)I laugh at his fear, he weeps over his fiery rearI say, go baby godon't be so slowlet the fire get youlet your face get more red than blueI add a bit of winefor that hateful s*ine.oh my! my head painsand in that instant it rainsall my plan go down the drainsSir Silley is savedand words to that effect are engravedhere lies the pseudo-poet, almost-if only he had burnt to nice toast!

Anthonynorth: We be awash in a veritable sea of the beautifully surreal; your comment is surreally beautiful and so it really stands out.

Donn, or if I may, Sir Donn - for verily, if thou be not Knighted then I know not why God should save the Queen: your sagacity and linguistic audacity stand as a shining Bloggy on a Hill.

Lorraine: You seek light in a cave. I'm afraid that we must request Ms. Tripathy to choose subjects that can be approached with greater directness and clarity and with far less passion. I often recommend the chicken poem.

Love the s*ine - not that it would be improper to spell it all out nowadays, but you have to think for a sec what letter that * might stand for. My first flash was "shine", before I came up with the double u :)

Can I ask you a favor? Would you mind signing up as a follower of my blog?

Thou churlish craven Cat, and all such Modern meme-sayers here that offer flattery upon Gautami’s thread, I'll wager that you know not what a couplet is, nay, nor eye rhyme, nor near rhyme, nor internal - nor the difference 'twixt an English and Italian sonnet.

Verily I think you wouldn’t know, had you but ice cream, if it had or had not a cherry on it.

Boldly have I bent my brow and bust my brawny brain and plied my tawny well-trained quill to play the Sour Pill back upon my blog to Taunt you all.

About Me

For someone who teaches mathematics, poetry comes easy. There are so many aspects about myself that are unknown even to me. Poetry is way to explore myself. Where it will lead me, I don't know. I don't want to know. I thrive on the unknown.